Winter Solstice
by The Melon Lord Approves
Summary: On the eve of the winter solstice festival, Katara reminisces about her younger days and shares a bit of her wisdom.


**Title-** Winter Solstice  
**Author-** Melon (moi!)  
**Characters/Pairings-** Katara, Asami, references to Kataang  
**Rating-** K  
**Summary-** On the eve of the winter solstice festival, Katara reminisces about her younger days and shares a bit of her wisdom.

**A/N-** There is a teeny tiny hint of Asami shipping in here. You can read it as Korrasami or Masami, whichever floats your boat, but for my part, I _totally_ intended it to be Korrasami.

* * *

They had all traveled to the Southern Water Tribe for the annual Winter Solstice celebration, three days of elaborate parties and rituals that culminated in a grand festival in the heart of the Water Tribe's capitol city on the eve of the solstice. Korra had insisted that they all take a break from their otherwise grueling schedules to spent the week at the South Pole and just- in her words- kick back and relax. Bolin complied eagerly, Mako less so, and Asami almost hadn't come at all, but her curiosity about the cultural traditions of the Southern Water Tribe had overcome her reluctance to watch Korra and Mako being cutesy.

And so southward they had gone, and while Korra's parents would have happily opened their extremely tiny home to them, Master Katara had insisted that the bending brothers and the young captain of industry stay with her. Her house, she said, was much too quiet without her children and grandchildren around this year, and what could they possibly say to that?

On the evening of the solstice itself, the five of them began the walk from Katara's quiet little house at the edge of the city toward the central plaza, enjoying the clear air and the view of the stars afforded through gaps in the sparse cloud cover. Halfway to the city center, however, one of their party stopped.

As they rounded the corner and the festival lights came distantly into view, Katara stopped dead. She took a few dazed steps to the side, coming to rest in the doorway of a shop that was closed for the evening. She cupped her cheek in her hand, an expression half wistful and half fondly reminiscent clouding her cobalt eyes.

Noticing her elderly mentor hanging back, Korra paused. "Katara, aren't you coming?" she called.

A reassuring smile found its way to Katara's mouth. "Yes, it's alright, Korra," she said. "These old bones don't move as fast as they used to."

Korra laughed. "You don't fool me! You're as spry as ever, Sifu."

Katara chuckled in her turn. "You young people go on ahead," she insisted. "I'll catch up."

Korra deliberated for only a moment longer. Then, with a smile fixed apparently indelibly on her face, she seized both Mako and Bolin firmly around the shoulder and hauled them bodily forward. The three of them marched gaily onward through the falling snow toward the bright lights of the festival.

One member of the party, however, lingered behind. Asami hesitated, almost unnoticed, as the other three surged forward. Respectfully she approached the old woman where she stood leaning against a doorpost and gazing wistfully after the others.

"Master Katara?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Katara said. "I just... well, I haven't been to one of these solstice festivals since before Korra was born."

"Why not?" Asami asked.

Katara was quiet for a long time and the beautiful entrepreneur began to fear she might have overstepped the bounds of courtesy. Before she could open her mouth to apologize, however, Katara spoke at last.

"Do you know that until the end of the war, we never had solstice festivals in the Southern Tribe?"

"No, I didn't."

"We were too unimportant compared to the Northern Tribe, even before the war," the aging master explained. "It fell to us to cross the whole world each winter to visit our sister tribe for the solstice. But after the fighting was over and our people had begun to recover, our traditions changed. Now every year, the solstice festival is held at the opposite pole from the year before."

Asami nodded. "It's a very effective way to promote unity between your tribes, isn't it?"

Katara grinned. "You're a clever girl," she said. "Yes, it was my father's idea. He was our chief back then. He hoped that by sharing more equally between the two tribes, we might become stronger as a people."

"He sounds wise."

"He was. He was a strong leader for many years." Katara sighed and cast another wistful look toward the distant lights. "The first time the Southern Tribe hosted the solstice festival was just before I turned eighteen. It was beautiful. The city had just been rebuilt and Fire Lord Zuko had contributed a generous gift of fireworks for the occasion."

"That sounds wonderful."

Katara shrugged. "I hardly remember it. Aang proposed that night and I can't recall much besides that." She chuckled. "He was so nervous. His hands were shaking."

"I can't picture Avatar Aang like that," Asami remarked.

"Few people can. I imagine most have a difficult time reconciling the Avatar with the man. But to me, he was always just my Aang, and I thought it was adorable that he was nervous. He had no reason to be, of course. My answer would never have been anything but yes."

"The two of you really were as much in love as the stories say, then?"

"Probably more so," Katara said, smiling with soft reminiscence. "I never thought it was possible to love someone as much as I loved him, let alone have him feel the same, but there it was. Aang was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I suspect there are an awful lot of people who would say the same," Asami pointed out wryly.

Katara laughed outright. "I suppose you're right about that!" After a mirthful moment, however, she subsided again into thoughtfulness. "I never talk about this," she said quietly. "I never talk about _him_, not even with my own children. I can't."

"You miss him."

"Of course. He was my best friend and my husband and the father of my children. He was... he was a part of me." She sniffed and blinked rapidly, keeping a tight rein on tears.

"It's hard to lose the people we love," Asami commiserated.

Katara glanced up at the dark-haired young woman and said, astutely, "You lost your mother too, didn't you?"

"Yes, when I was six."

"I was eight when they took my mom. It took me a very long time to come to terms with that."

Asami hesitated. There was something about Katara, an aura of maternal warmth that she hadn't felt in a very long time. It was a comforting feeling, and it made her anxious to confess something which had been weighing on her heart for months.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, Asami."

"Sometimes I understand why my father did what he did. Sometimes I know what drove him to do something so evil. Sometimes I-I feel the same way. And that scares me."

To Asami's great astonishment, she found herself engulfed in a hug by one of the world's most legendary heroes. It only lasted a moment before Katara released her, but it was shocking all the same.

"You looked like you needed one," the older woman said, correctly reading Asami's expression. "Or maybe I did, I'm not sure. But listening to you talk... you could be me, seventy years ago."

"How do you mean?"

"I confronted my mother's murderer once, did you know that?"

"No, I'd never heard that."

"I suppose that's one of the stories my brother neglected to include in his tell-all account," Katara said with a roll of her eyes. "Which, let me tell you, is woefully incomplete. But those are other stories... Yes, Zuko helped me track down the soldier who killed her. That was... not a good day."

"Did you... did you kill him?"

Katara shook her head. "No, but I wanted to."

"How did you stop yourself?" Asami asked, privately thinking that if she were confronted with the man who had killed her mother in cold blood, she might not show as much restraint.

"The wisdom of someone who understood forgiveness much better than I did," Katara said enigmatically. At Asami's questioning look, she elaborated: "He wasn't even there at the time, but Aang still knew me better than I knew myself that day. He gave me some advice before I left, and I'll always be glad that he did, because he saved me from myself. Vengeance would not have helped me. It would not have healed that pain. But if Aang hadn't said what he did, I would have done it, and I think I would have done myself much more harm than good. Revenge is a painful poison, Asami."

The young industrialist digested this, nodding slowly. She understood what Katara was telling her, knew the truth of it only too well. Hatred could eat you up inside, and she had seen what a thirst for revenge had done to what was left of her family.

"If I can be honest with you, Asami," Katara added after a brief silence, "I pity your father. He didn't have someone to safeguard his heart and keep him from giving in to hatred. He was broken, and no one knew how to step in and fix him."

"I wish I had seen sooner what-"

"No, don't blame yourself. You were so young, how could you have known?"

"And how old was Avatar Aang when he did the same thing for you?"

Katara grimaced, and conceded. "He had just turned thirteen. But Aang was not exactly a typical teenager. Quite aside from being the spirit of the world incarnate, he was just a remarkable person in and of himself. I wouldn't dare hold anyone else to his standard."

"But isn't that the point?" Asami asked. "If we don't strive to be more like your husband and men like him, how will the world ever get better?"

Katara let out a bark of surprised laughter. "It would seem that you're also wise beyond your years, Miss Sato! I wish Aang could have met you. I think he would have liked you. Well, he liked just about everybody, because that was just how he was, but I think he would have had as much respect for you as I do."

Asami blushed lightly and glanced down. "Thank you. That means a lot," she said shyly. "You know, when I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me stories about you and Avatar Aang, about how your love saved the world and how you defied the odds to stay together, no matter what. A lot of kids get your story in place of a fairy tale these days."

"Well, it certainly felt like a fairy tale to me, even when he was being infuriating and we were shouting at each other."

The younger woman snorted. "I can't picture that."

"I can. Vividly. Although really, we didn't fight that often. We were so alike, you see, even though it didn't always seem like it on the surface."

"I think I know what you mean," Asami said thoughtfully. Then she laughed. "As a kid, I used to daydream that someday the new Avatar would come sweep me off my feet and we'd have a magical romance like yours. Needless to say, the actual outcome was... pretty different." She cast a glance up the road, to where Korra and Bolin could be seen pelting a very unamused Mako with snowballs. Her eyes landed on the laughing Avatar as she pounced on the firebender, and a regretful sigh passed silently from her lips.

Katara, following her gaze to the exuberant group in the distance, placed a reassuring hand on Asami's shoulder. "Love is hard, when you're young," she counseled. "I wouldn't dwell too much on Korra and Mako if I were you. I've found that what's meant to be will be, in the end, if you don't overthink it and get in your own way."

"Thank you, Master Katara."

"Please, Asami, just call me Katara."

Asami nodded. "Well... Katara... shall we go, then?"

Katara looked again toward the festival lights, then back to the snow beneath her feet and shook her head heavily. "No, I don't think so, Asami. I thought maybe this year... but no, I'm not ready yet. You go on ahead. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy being young and being with your friends."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

Katara nodded. "Yes, of course. Now go on."

Asami smiled, turned on her heel and sprinted across the snow, rushing to catch up with the distant figures of the former Fire Ferrets.

Katara watched her go, a soft expression on her face as she regarded the beautiful orphan, running fleet-footed across the distance between her and her friends. An arctic gust swirled around her ankles, kicking up little puffs of snow that danced around her briefly before spinning away.

"I know," she murmured. "Yes, Aang, I know."


End file.
